


Chasing Fire

by vintagewoe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery, Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: Angst, Conflict, F/M, Female MC - Freeform, Fluff, Harry Potter:Hogwarts Mystery, Hogwarts Mystery - Freeform, Smut, Video Game: Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery, slytherin MC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 14:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15753249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagewoe/pseuds/vintagewoe
Summary: After years without contact, MC receives an invitation to Bill's wedding. She still has feelings for him; is she able to handle seeing him marry someone else?





	Chasing Fire

Despite the dread that looms over the season, you’re forced to admit that the summer of 1997 is a beautiful time for a wedding. You haven’t grown cynical enough to resent a couple able to celebrate love amidst the tragedy of war, but you also have little desire to attend. Surprisingly, this has nothing to do with the rising of Voldemort. Today is July 31st, and tomorrow you will be attending the wedding of your first love—Bill Weasley.  
  
After finding your brother and defeating the cursed vaults, you moved to a small coastal town on the Isle of Skye. The vaults had altered most of his personality and heavily damaged any social skills, so made the difficult choice to isolate yourself with him while he healed. You don’t regret your time there—the ancient Gaelic magic in Portree has made considerable improvement in Jacob’s condition—but it has left you lonely over the last few years. Some friends have offered to visit, but you didn’t think it wise. You also haven’t left the isle since you graduated Hogwarts.  
  
This was potentially the worst time for you to travel back to England. You know that Voldemort had never forgiven your traitorous family for going against him, but your hands felt tied. Shortly following news of your old Headmaster’s death, you received a letter from Bill. You maintained your friendship with most of your school friends, but he had disappeared from your life before you even graduated. He wrote that he was getting married, and that war made him want to have his best friend back in his life. He wanted you there. Though years had passed, it meant a lot to you that he kept you in his thoughts. You contacted Charlie, who was genuinely surprised that Bill invited you. He was going to be the best man, and he asked if you’d want to join him as his date. The two of you were the only people from your original class in attendance, and he remained your closest friend, so of course, you agreed.  
  
A few weeks passed, and now you found yourself standing outside of the Weasley home willing the breeze to drag you inside. You’re excited to reunite with your old friends, but there’s a part of you that isn’t ready for the heartache. You fell in love with Bill when you were only twelve, and the years have not given you any recess from those feelings. To be fair, you hadn’t really tried to get over him; you spend all time with your brother and only talk to platonic classmates that you don’t even see. It seems that Bill wasted no time moving forward. Apparently, he’s only been seeing his fiancé for about a year, but people do far more reckless things when their lives are at stake. You wonder again if she’s pretty, but quickly shake that thought away. Of course, she is. Charlie briefly mentioned that the woman was part Veela, and you know that you could never compare. You take a small gulp of the firewhiskey stashed in your handbag to calm your nerves, take a deep breath, and enter the Burrow.  
  
The house is quaint and folksy in an endearing way. It’s filled with people, none of whom you recognize, but there are quite a few tufts of familiar red hair. Before you have time to adjust, a pair of strong arms wrap around you. A warm, almost burnt scent engulfs you, and you don’t need to turn around to know who the arms belong to.  
  
“Charlie,” you say, your voice calm yet affectionate. He replies with a deep chuckle, and you return his hug immediately. “It looks like the years of dragon wrestling have been good for you.” His body had become very toned and muscular from the vigorous work that he did, and his skin had tanned in a way not usually possible for the pale family. He’d grown into a very handsome man, and you could almost find yourself attracted to him—if you didn’t know better. Charlie, unlike his other siblings, doesn’t particularly bother with romance. He puts all his passion into his work, which keeps him at the top of his career. He’s potentially the happiest person you know.  
  
“It’s great to see you,” he greets, and you hear the sincerity in his voice. “I can’t wait to catch up. There’s a few things that I have to get ready for tomorrow, but I have a great surprise for you in the meantime.” He grabs a hold of your arm and leads you back outside and into a tent. Inside, it looks like it’s been charmed into a modest pub. There’s a small group of people huddled around the bar, and Charlie excitedly drags you to them. “Hey, Remus!” He yells, garnering the attention of an older man. He smiles and holds out his hand. “This is the girl I was telling you about. Y/N, I’d like to introduce you to Remus Lupin, the new husband of the one and only—”.  
  
He’s cut off by a loud shriek. You finally notice the barely aged Nymphadora Tonks sitting behind Remus. She jumps off her stool and pulls you into the kind of hug that only she can give. The two of you stay like that for some time, hugging tightly and swaying out of pure joy. Charlie excuses himself politely, and the small group exits the tent to leave you alone with your old friend.  
  
“I had no idea you’d be here,” she starts. “This is fantastic. Oh, Y/N, you look so beautiful. I absolutely love this color on you.” Tonks is rambling, but you know that she’s telling the truth. She would never lie to you, and you’d spent weeks planning the outfits for this week. Tonight, you’re wearing a tribute to your house: a deep emerald gown with silver embellishments from head to toe. The dress is sleek and includes a thigh-high slit on your left leg. It might be a little provocative for a wedding guest, but a reclusive Slytherin has to make herself known.  
“I’m sorry that I haven’t been in contact much lately,” Tonks continues. “It’s been hectic around here. But since we’re finally together again, you have to tell me everything I’ve missed!” You reach behind the bar for a bottle of liquor and poor it into the two cups in front of you.  
  
“I plan on getting myself piss drunk to make it through the next few hours, so let’s drink up first!” Her face droops initially, but quickly pulls into a smile. She places a hand on her stomach and pushes her drink to you.  
  
“Actually, I’ve got a little someone in here that’s much too young to drink…” she broaches gingerly. You squeal and put your hand alongside hers.  
  
“It looks like you have a lot that you need to update me on instead,”  
  
  
  
  
  
In just a few hours and quite a few drinks, you learned that Tonks lives an extraordinary life. Not only is she the Auror that she’d always dreamed of being—she works directly with some of the greatest wizards alive to defeat the Dark Lord. Her recount of the last few months drags you through a whirlwind of emotion: the devastation at learning your head of house was responsible for Dumbledore’s death, the adoration of her crusade for love, the shock that the man she’d fallen for is a werewolf. If anyone else had been telling the stories, you wouldn’t believe them, but this life made sense for Tonks.  
  
“At first, Remus tried to push me away. He didn’t think it was safe for me, but you know I’ve never cared about safety. But after everything that happened with Bill, I was able to convince him that our love was stronger than a little lycanthropy.” Your heart stops at his name.  
  
“Wait,” you question. “What happened with Bill?” Tonks looks to the ground.  
  
“I probably shouldn’t have said anything…” she starts. “A few months ago, he was badly injured by Fenrir Greyback.” Realizing her words, she quickly added more. “He’s okay! I mean, clearly; he’s getting married tomorrow. He just likes his steak a little rare now and has a few scars. But if his relationship could survive, so could mine.” You try to process everything Tonks just said. Why didn’t someone tell you he was hurt? Why didn’t Charlie? You take a deep breath and remind yourself that he’s alive and well. Tonks sees how lost in thought you are and interrupts. “Y/N, you’re not still in love with him, are you?” In lieu of a reply, you pour yourself another drink, and your silence speaks volume. “Love, he’s getting married in just a couple hours. Are you gonna be able to make it through this?” She attempts to take the liquor from you, but you pull it out of her reach.  
  
“Look, Tonks. He wanted me here, so I have to be. But if I’m forced to watch the love of my life give himself to someone else, I’m certainly not gonna feel it.”  
  
  
  
  
  
You’re a witch of her word. You and Tonks joined the rest of the party, and not long after, you’re smiling and giggling and slurring your words. Luckily, most of the guests have no idea who you are or why you’re there. You finally meet the rest of the Weasley children and make a mental note to connect with the twins at another time. They seem fun, and you expect that they’ll cause at least a little trouble for the bride and groom tomorrow. Speaking of which, you think, it’s late into the night, and you’ve yet to run into either. You decide to excuse yourself to grab another drink and immediately consider biting your tongue. Two beautiful blonde women are sitting in the kitchen, and since one of them looks young enough to be your own child, it’s easy to pick out the bride. Despite wearing comfortable robes, Fleur is the most breathtaking beauty you’ve ever seen. You try to sneak off without their noticing, but she calls out to you.  
“Zey say I should be asleep by now, but I’m too, what is zee British word for excité?” She speaks in a heavy French accent, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. There’s no way that the woman couldn’t remember the word excited from its cognate. “Who are you? I do not theenk we’ave met before, no?” She offers you a cup of tea. You’re too polite to resist, so you take a seat across from them and accept the cup.  
  
“I’m Y/N,” you start cautiously. “Charlie’s date.” Her face fills with shock, and she places her delicate hands on top of yours.  
  
“Bill tells me so much of you! Eet ees lucky ’e is your friend.” Fleur’s warmth is genuine, making it so much harder to hate her.  
  
“I’m sure he’s very lucky to have you too,” you admit. She stands and kisses you on the cheek.  
  
“Bonne nuit, Y/N. Eet ees wonderful to ‘ave you here.” You’re surprised at how quickly she excuses herself; it makes you question how much she knows about you. You wonder if Bill told her how close you once were. You wonder if he told her how many late nights you’d fallen asleep together while studying in the library. You wonder if he told her how he was your first kiss.  
  
You shake those thoughts out of your head and dump out the untouched tea. This was all too much. You head upstairs to the room Charlie told you to sleep in. Normally when home, he shares it with Percy, but tonight, the room was just for the two of you. He hadn’t made it back tonight, though; you think the older boys went off to some kind of bachelor party. You toss your gown on the floor—internally groaning at your own treatment of the expensive garment—and throw on your old Weasley jumper. Whatever household charm Molly had cast on the knitting makes it constantly smell like home. You pull the jumper close to you and climb into bed, closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
You awake to a crashing sound. A voice mumbles out the word “shit” and stomps around the room. Still half asleep, you blink a few times and try to make sense of what’s going on.  
“Jacob?” You whisper, suddenly panicked. He has most of his episodes at night.  
  
“Who the hell is Jacob?” The voice replies. You feel the end of mattress sag and sit up straight. Parts of your night come flashing back, and you remember that you’re not in Scotland. Jacob is fine. You hear a shoe fling across the room, followed by a laugh and another toss. Wait; you know that laugh. You grab on to your wand and cast Lumos, revealing an older, tipsy Bill Weasley sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes widen.  
  
“Shit,” he whispers again. “Y/N? When did you get here?” You don’t know the man in front of you well anymore, but he looks anxious.  
  
“I’ve been here for hours,” you answer. “You asked me to come.” He throws his legs off the side of the bed and sits next to you, the shock somewhat sobering him up.  
“I did.” Bill doesn’t add anything else. You look up at his face; he hasn’t aged much, but long, thick scars graced the entirety of his left side. The sight of them makes you gasp and involuntarily place your hand to his cheek. “They’re healed, but they’re hideous,” he says while putting his hand over yours.  
  
“They’re not hideous,” you insist. Your own body shows signs of the accidental abuse from your brother over the years. Dark magic still has a grip over his mind; however, he’s doing the best he can. “We all have scars.”  
  
“Not you,” he murmured, gently brushing his fingers over yours. You try to ignore the chill that passes through your body. “You haven’t changed at all.”  
“We’ve all changed, Bill.”  
  
Without thinking, he moves towards you and presses his lips against yours. It’s delicate—not unlike the one you shared a decade before. He deepens the kiss, and for a moment, you lose yourself; this is all you’ve ever wanted. Bill leans over you, laying you down on to the bed. His tongue presses against your lips, wordlessly seeking permission, and you allow him. You run your fingers through his hair and trail your fingers down his back. He sits up briefly to loosen his necktie, pauses, and strips off his shirt. Unlike his face, his body remains unmarred by time. He doesn’t give you much time to admire before his mouth his back with yours. Bill tastes of firewhiskey and nostalgia, and you realize how badly you need this. You scrape your hands down his back, pulling him closer. This invites him to do the same. He runs his hands up your sides, tugging up the oversized jumper with them. You allow him to remove it even though it leaves you in only your knickers.  
  
“Is this my jumper?” Bill asks, looking in awe at the garment in his hands. You nod; his smile is radiant in response. “I can’t believe you still wear it.” His hands return to your body, placing one on your breast while his lips go to your throat. Despite how gentle he is with your bare chest, he does not extend that same courtesy to your neck. Bill leaves a trail of marks down your throat, and one particular nip at your pulse forces you to let out a whimper.  
  
He licks off a small dot of blood that forms and smiles sheepishly. “I’ve gotten a bit coarse with the biting since my accident.” His voice softens, suddenly very sincere. “I don’t want to hurt you. Please, tell me if I do.” You look up into his kind eyes and feel the urge to be with him more strongly than before. Taking some charge, you draw his body back to yours and kiss him frantically. All the years of repressed desire pour out of you; the hunger so intense that it’s almost painful. You’ve been chasing after this feeling for so long. Bill’s lips head to your chest, and he cups your breasts in his hands and takes one nipple in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it while pinching the other and you gasp. You feel him smirk, and the seconds feel like hours. Bill continues his trail down your abdomen and pauses over your knickers.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” he breathes, kissing your thighs. He tugs down the last of your clothing, leaving you fully exposed to the older man. His fingers tease at your entrance, testing your reactions. Bill pushes one finger inside of you, and you whimper, causing him to look back up at you.  
  
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” He’s teasing, but there’s a real hint of concern in his words. He adds in a second finger, and you shake your head rapidly. “Why not?”  
  
“There hasn’t been anyone.”  
  
“No one?”  
  
“I’ve only ever wanted to be with you,” you admit. His eyes darken, clouded with lust. Your feelings seem to intensify his own; he moves his lips to his hands and runs his tongue along your most sensitive bundle. Each gasp only encouraged him to move more rapidly, drawing his fingers in and out of you while he expertly worked your clit with his tongue. You tremble and feel a wave of pleasure build.  
  
“Fuck,” you moan. “Please, Bill.” Your body arches, and the wave of pleasure hits its breaking point as you orgasm. Bill moves up to kiss you again with your own juices on his lips, and your need for him is almost unbearable. He’s here, craving you, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted. He is yours, and you are his. A nagging thought returns despite your attempt to keep it away, and you remember the situation that you’re in. You pull away, but his hands keep greedily caressing your skin.  
  
“Wait,” you say. He looks into your eyes, and for a second, you think you see love there. “You’re getting married in just a few hours! Your fiancé is in the other room!” You groan. “Oh, god. We can’t do this.”  
  
“Y/N, it’s a war wedding. I’ve only ever wanted to be with you.” His words echo your own from before. It’s so hard to resist what you’ve ached for the entire time you’ve known him. “Tell me you want me to stop, and I will. But you need to say the words.”  
  
“What about Fleur? What about the wedding?”  
  
“Fuck Fleur,” he says. “Fuck the wedding. I want you.” You know it’s wrong, but for the first time in your life, you decide to be selfish. You nod and kiss him again. No matter the sin, his lips are the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. You reach forward, lightly pressing your hand against his erection, and he moans into your mouth. His reaction emboldens you, and you tug at his boxers. He yelps you yank them down, but hisses when you touch his bare skin. You wrap your fist around his length, pumping lightly as his breath hitches. Certain that this is what you want, you lay back, and Bill poses himself at your entrance.  
  
“Tell me if I hurt you,” he repeats. “Please.” You nod, and he pushes himself into you slowly. You gasp immediately, but it’s more from the shock.  
  
“I’m okay,” you assure. “Keep going.” Bill pushes his hips forward little by little, and a small sheet of tears coat your eyes by the time he’s completely inside. He waits a few seconds until you nod, then begins moving. Your pain quickly fades into pleasure, and within a few minutes he does not need to stay gentle with you.  
  
Minutes pass, and Bill builds up a rhythm. His hands grip tightly into your hips, his nails digging into the skin, and you’re doing the same to his back. He thrusts into you deeper and moans your name. His hand returns to your clit, fingers working expertly to bring you to another orgasm.  
  
“Fuck,” you cry out again; your words drive Bill over the edge, and he finishes just after you. He pulls your body close to him, wrapping his arms around you. The post-intimacy fatigue hits almost immediately, and you feel yourself falling asleep.  
  
“I love you,” you admit drowsily, only half aware of your words. His arms tighten around you.  
  
“I love you, too,” he says. “I always have.” You drift off to sleep thinking that no dream could be greater than your life right now.  
  
  
  
  
  
You awake again with a rough start. Someone is shaking your shoulder, so you groan out a negative response and roll over. “Y/N, come on; you have to get ready.” The voice is Charlie’s, so you quickly pull the sheets over your body only to realize that you’re dressed again. You’re also alone in the bed  
  
“Where am I?” You mumble. Charlie hands you a cup of coffee that you accept generously. “Where’s Bill?”  
  
“He’s waiting outside to get married, love. You’re running so late. I need to go set up, but please get dressed as quickly as you can and meet everyone outside.” He kisses your forehead and leaves the room. You can’t believe—after last night—that Bill was getting married today. You look at your skin and realize that none of the markings he left had stayed. The realization hits you like a flash of lightning.  
  
“Oh, god,” you groan, tears bubbling up at the corners of your eyes. “It must have been a dream.” You toss your gown from yesterday abruptly into your bag. You need to get out of this house immediately. Once you’re home, you can write Bill and come up with a reason why you missed his wedding. You throw on a pair of pants with your Weasley jumper, grab your bag, and force the door open—only to come face to face with the man you’re trying to abandon.  
  
“Y/N!” He starts, surprised. “You’re here.” He steps in the room. You almost cry at the real sound of his voice, but you need to stay strong.  
  
“Actually, I’m on my way out. There’s been an emergency back home, and I need to leave right—”  
  
“I can’t get married,” he blurts out, interrupting you. Was this another dream? Was your subconscious determined to torture you at this point?  
  
“Why is that?” You ask. Bill runs his right hand through his hard anxiously and looks up at the ceiling.  
  
“I had this dream last night that made me think that I’m supposed to be with you. I know this sounds ridiculous, and I can’t explain it, but I can’t get married unless I know that you don’t feel the same about me.” His eyes meet yours, and your heart stops.  
  
“How do you feel about me? You ask cautiously, and his lips crash into yours in a way that feels like home. When he pulls away, the world seems to turn just a little bit slower. A slight cough draws your attention away from Bill, and you both look over to see Charlie in the doorway.  
  
“God dammit, you two! I thought I stopped dealing with this kind of thing when I left the country.” He frowns at you both, but you can see his eyes are gleaming. “What are we supposed to do now?” You shrug, and Bill mimics your gesture. “Okay, I’m going to go get the twins. They can probably stop a wedding.”  
  
You know that this is a serious situation, but you can’t keep yourself from bursting out in laughter. Bill is confused at first, but joins in shortly after. Once you’ve both calmed down, you speak again.  
  
“I was so sure that I was done chasing fires when we opened the last vault,” you say. “But a part of me hasn’t stopped chasing after you this entire time.”  
  
“I know I’m a few years late in realizing it, but I think I’ve felt the same about you since the beginning.”  
  
“Oh, this is cliché. We broke up a wedding. And we’re in the middle of a massive wizarding war. But here we are confessing our feelings like we’re in school again.” Before he can answer, Charlie runs back into the room. “Did you find the twins?” You ask. His face, however, shows no trace of his usual humor.  
  
“We apparently have bigger problem’s than my brother’s infidelity,” he starts. Bill attempts to yell back at him, but Charlie holds up his hand. “The Ministry has fallen, and Scrimgeour is dead. We need to get out of here, now.” He holds out both of his hands, and you and Bill form a circle. This might be the darkest adventure for you yet, but at least you still had your favorite boys by your side.

**Author's Note:**

> Ya'll I haven't written smut in over a decade, and also I wrote this from about midnight-five am on a Tuesday. I apologize for any errors in the writing or just for being the way that I am.


End file.
